More Than Words: More Than, Book 3 (6 page)

Sam clapped the man on his shoulder, took his own cup and walked over to Molly, giving Ethan a minute to compose himself.

With his back turned to the distressed man, Sam’s expression changed, allowing Molly a peek into his thoughts. The narrow set of his eyes spoke of his concern for Greg. His pursed lips hinted at contained fury—a fury Molly had no doubt was aimed at the stepfather. And then there was Sam’s determined nod, as though he were devising a plan of action to deal with the whole tragic case.

Molly was already dialing when Sam told her he needed to speak to the social worker, stat. “I’ll connect the call to your office,” she said softly. “Should I conference in Ella?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She has the case worker’s details.” He lowered his voice so only Molly could hear. “Get security up to CCU too. If the stepfather is there when we get down, things could get ugly.”

Sam’s call had been a good one. Security had stepped in the minute Ethan had walked into Greg’s room and seen Martin. He’d lashed out wildly, throwing punches at the other man.

Martin had wisely chosen to leave, and Sam had spent a minute calming Ethan, reminding him his priority was Greg, not the abusive stepfather.

Things had been tense between the boy’s divorced parents too, but the social worker, who’d met them in CCU, had dealt with that. The case was no closer to being resolved though. Greg remained unconscious, although he was responding to physical stimuli, which was good, and police had been called in to investigate Ethan’s allegations and Sam’s concerns.

By the time Sam had returned to his office—running forty minutes late—Molly’d been forced to deal with a waiting room full of irritated parents. As usual, she’d done a stand-up job of pacifying them.

But Sam’s mind was no longer on work. Nope, he was home at a reasonable hour, and he intended to unwind with a scotch and his iPad. He’d been checking emails the whole day with little success. Tonight he hoped to find a letter from Molly.

She owed him one. Had even shaken on their deal.

Their chat this morning had been…interesting.

Yeah, right.
Interesting
.

It had been flat-out arousing. How Sam had stopped himself from hauling his receptionist into his arms and kissing her the way she’d asked him to kiss her in her email was a mystery.

It was probably respect for Molly that had stopped him. Even though she dropped little bombs about how she’d like to jump him, she’d been determined to keep things purely professional during office hours, and it was hard to argue with that kind of logic.

Wanting to wash the hospital off his skin, Sam took time for a quick shower before settling onto his couch, glass in hand, wearing nothing but his towel. He took his sweet time opening his emails. The anticipation alone had his cock stiffening. And his chest swirling with warmth.

There’d be a letter. He knew that for sure. One thing about Molly, she was honest to a fault. If she’d told him she would send him an email, he’d get it.

And there it was. Sitting in his inbox, simply titled,
Symptoms Worsening
.

He took a long sip of scotch, letting the drink heat his belly before placing it on the coffee table, resting his feet beside it and opening the mail.

Dear Sam,

He freaking loved her calling him Sam.

I thought long and hard about sending you this email, wondering if it was the right thing to do, what with me being your receptionist and all.

But then I got distracted by the long-and-hard part, and before I knew it, I was typing. You know why, don’t you?

Because that’s how I imagine you when you’re aroused. Long and hard.

Sam placed a hand over his erection in a useless effort to ease the pain as it rose to full glory. Yeah, Molly’s letters turned him on. But they did something else. Made him feel in a non-physical way. Made his chest ache from thoughts of what could be between them—given the chance.

Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined you aroused? There aren’t enough fingers on my hands—or in Sydney, for that matter—to count. I try not to let the images flood my mind at work, and mostly I’m successful. Especially when there are patients in the room or I’m busy working on your files.

But then there are times like this, when the office is deserted, you’re out checking on a patient and I’m on my lunch break. I can’t help thinking about you then. Have I ever told you how much I admire the way you care for your patients? How my heart swells when you go that extra mile for them, like you did for Mickey? I know you’re with Allan’s parents now. Know you’re providing them with whatever comfort you can. That’s part of what makes you so special. You don’t have to do it. You don’t have to be there. But you know it will ease their pain, so you do it anyway.

God knows you eased my pain. Mickey’s too.

Of course he did it. It was part and parcel of his work.

Although he’d been far more involved with Mickey’s case than he should have been. He’d found it difficult to tear himself away from the frightened, devastated child and her overwhelmed sister.

Fortunately, Allan had come through today’s keyhole surgery like a champ. Masters hadn’t gotten all of the glioma. There was still tissue attached to the brainstem that would have put Allan at risk had Masters removed it. But neither Sam nor Masters was overly concerned. As long as they kept an eye on the tissue, there shouldn’t be too many complications. Now all they need do was wait for results from pathology. If his and Masters’ suspicions were right, then the tumor would be low-grade, with little risk of recurrence.

They’d have results by Friday. Same day as Molly’s birthday.

Uh-oh, I’m getting distracted. Confusing the caring Sam with the sexy one. But yeah, it’s hard to keep the two separate, and when I see you in care mode, I find you sexier than ever.

For the sake of this letter and the possible epidemic we have on our hands, let’s get back to sexy Sam with the long, hard erection.

Okay, wow.

It happened. I got all turned on. The thought of your erection makes me close my eyes and squeeze my thighs together. I have goose bumps too, and my stomach’s all jumpy.

You know what I think about when I picture your erection? Besides you all naked and gorgeous, I mean? I imagine my hand wrapped around the base of your cock, and my mouth inches from the head.

Sam’s soft groan filled the air. He tugged his towel open and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, exactly the way Molly described.

This is another one of my fantasies. Me kissing you. Yeah, I’d like to kiss your mouth too. Like to start with little sweet kisses to your lips, light, feathery kisses to tease and tempt. I’d follow that up with a little pressure of my lips molded to yours, hinting at the promise of temptation to come. I’d like to taste your tongue too. Slide mine against yours in a kiss so intimate you feel it right through your chest.

I’d never stop there, Sam. I’d taste all of you, run my mouth from your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your chest.

I’d kiss you all over every inch of your gorgeous chest. Taste the salt of your skin, touch the hard muscle of your pecs.

Have you ever caught me staring at your chest? At the small patch you reveal when you leave the top buttons of your shirt undone? It’s like a beacon to my eyes. I can’t stop looking or imagining what it’ll taste like.

I can’t stop imagining how your long, hard erection will taste either. It’s the reason why in this fantasy my mouth is mere inches from your cock. I’ve worked my way down from your chest, over that six-pack of yours and found what I’ve been searching for.

I lick my lips, excitement fizzing through my veins.

Sam licked his lips too. For a long moment he had to stop and draw breath. In his mind’s eyes all he saw was Molly, on her knees before him. She knelt between his legs, her head tilted forward. He couldn’t see her face, only the long blond hair cascading over her shoulders. But he could hear the soft, imaginary moan she emitted, and it made very real drops of precome bead on his dick.

My first taste is a lick. I have to pace myself, because my hunger for you is voracious. I fear I might attempt to swallow you whole in one go. I’d probably choke in the process, ruining the mood. So I hold back, taking the time to savor you. Softly, slowly, I run my tongue over the tip of your penis, letting your taste fill my mouth.

The breath exploded out of Sam. The gentleness of her proposed action reached more than his cock. It reached his heart as well, filling it with an indescribable ache.

I know this is a fantasy, I know it’s not real, but picturing it has me all worked up. I’m on fire. My pussy is throbbing. It feels…empty. Hollow. And wet. The need is intense, unbearable and delicious all at the same time.

I want to touch myself. But I couldn’t do that. Not here, sitting on my ergonomically designed office chair. It wouldn’t be right.

The idea of Molly touching herself almost did his head in. As for touching herself in her office? It made his balls cramp.

You taste good, Sam, all musky and salty, the very essence of a man. Your taste is addictive. I want more.

Sam ran his thumb over his cockhead, imagining it was Molly’s tongue. He also wanted more. Heaps more. He wanted her body and her soul.

How the heck had he managed to tamp down his desire and his feelings for her all these years? How had he forced himself to view her as nothing more than his receptionist?

I lick along the length of your erection, from the top down and then from the bottom up. I imagine you’d shudder when I do so. Would you? I’m shaking a little, but that’s from the excitement coursing through me. I’ve wanted to taste you like this for a long time. Imagined the feel of your satiny stiffness against my tongue.

I can’t hold back anymore. The need to have the rest of you overpowers me. I open my mouth and slide my lips over your tip, taking you in inch by solid inch.

Here’s the tricky part. In my fantasy I can swallow you down all the way, feel you move at the back of my throat as my lips wrap around your base. But in real life I suspect I might not fit you all in.

But this is my fantasy, so for now, I slide my lips all the way to the bottom.

Now that you’re there, encased in my hot, wet mouth, I’m going to make damn sure to give you the best head you’ve ever had. My eyes close as I slide my mouth back up. I should probably release you so I can look up into your face and determine if you’re enjoying yourself. But I’m not letting go. I’m swallowing you straight back down, a little faster this time

Oh, Jesus. She was going to give him a heart attack. Going to kill him, for sure.

For a second Sam wished he were a cardiologist instead of a neurologist. Maybe then he’d have the skills to protect his thudding heart.

Then the second was up and Sam was reading again.

You’re like a drug, Sam. I have a compulsive need to taste more of you, to move faster. So I do, sliding my mouth up and down your cock. Sometimes I hollow my cheeks and suck you in harder, making the pull a little tighter, and other times I relax my jaw, letting my tongue caress you as I envelop you in my mouth.

But then I fall into a rhythm, bobbing my head up and down and moving my lips and tongue over you. Your groans direct me. The more you groan, the more I assume you like what I’m doing.

Sam’s hand mimicked her words, pumping his dick.

You’ve tangled your fingers in my hair and you’re guiding me, moving my head. Your hips have found life too. You’re working my mouth as much as I’m working your cock. You’re fucking my face while I blow you, Sam. It’s like you’re losing control. You can’t seem to help yourself.

Sam gasped. His hips rocked against the couch, fucking his cock into his firmly wrapped hand. He tightened his grip on his iPad. His actions were growing intense, and he was likely to lose his grasp and drop the damn thing.

Not going to happen. Not when the words he read were displayed on that little screen.

The muscle in your thigh is rock hard, like you’re straining to hold back. Don’t hold back with me, Sam. Ever. Whatever you have to give, I can take. If you want to fuck me harder, I can relax my throat and take you in deeper. I want whatever you have to give.

I tighten my lips, suck you more forcefully.

My hair keeps falling forward, and I have to push it out of the way. You help, grabbing handfuls of it and piling it on top of my head. The pull on my roots as you guide my head is totally turning me on. It hurts, but that’s what makes it so erotic. I know you’d never intentionally cause me pain, so the fact that you’re pulling harder than you should tells me you’re lost to the sensations in your cock.